


i can never fill that hole in your heart (but god, how i try)

by clarkegriffvn



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Angst, this is stupidly short idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 17:38:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3419636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkegriffvn/pseuds/clarkegriffvn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy comforts Clarke as she grieves a painful anniversary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i can never fill that hole in your heart (but god, how i try)

* * *

 

It’s Christmas Eve and Clarke can’t stop crying.

She’s trying and trying; all she ever does is try, damn it all! But it’s just never enough, is it? The tears keep coming of their own accord, a twisted, painful look plastered on her face.

No one can see her now, alone in the bedroom of her apartment. Why bother putting on a show when your only audience member knows all of your tricks? Why care about anything at all, really? She’s just weak and pathetic.

A shaky, deep exhale pauses the welling of tears in her bloodshot eyes. Her hands grip the covers of her bed on either side, desperate to hold onto anything at this point. She sits hunched over her lap, longing to curl all the way back into her body and disappear. Her feet press against the hardwood floor still as stone, the slight contact between her and the ground rooting her. She feels like a balloon of misery tied down by a single string of sanity.

Clarke looks up and blinks a few times to clear her vision, trying to get a grip on herself. But then the flashbacks come, drifting over her like a heavy fog, a veil of painful memories. 

_Semi-blinding rays of sun blast through the windows and color everything inside the front seat a vivid orange. Road signs and barren scenery pass by in a haze, gone too quickly. Clarke’s in the passenger seat of a car that smells like aftershave and home, laughing in a way she hasn’t for weeks.  
_

_Her dad’s in the middle of a hilarious story about his job, one hand on the wheel and another on his club soda. His eyes sparkle, alight with a fiery passion Clarke has always felt envious of.  
_

_They’re driving down an empty highway together, sun on the horizon directly ahead. Clarke tosses a glance back to the luggage piled up in the backseat, not really listening anymore, a strange sense of pride overwhelming her. She got into med school for crying out loud! Finally, she’s going somewhere in life. In the background, she hears her dad’s storytelling pause.  
_

_"You know Clarke, I’m really proud of you," her dad says out of the blue, drawing Clarke’s attention back immediately.  
_

_The faint smile on her face blooms, along with the sense of pride in her gut. She knows in the moment that this memory will stay with her forever._

_"Thanks da—" she begins saying, before tensing up with wide eyes. A pickup truck is barreling toward them, right outside the driver’s side window. "CAR! CAR!"  
_

_Next thing she knows, there’s a huge crash and her body is flung to the side. All she can think about is that she can’t breathe and someone’s screaming they’re screaming so loud it’s hurting her ears and there’s glass everywhere and—_

A phone is ringing. Her phone, she realizes. 

Clarke tries opening her eyes, and her tan bedroom wall materializes in front of her. Shaking off the hazy flashbacks, she grabs the lit up cell from her nightstand. With trembling fingers she grips the phone in front of her and blinks a few times to read the tear-blurred caller ID. Despite the jumbled state she’s in, the name Bellamy Blake brings a broken smile to her face. 

With one tap, the ringing stops.

"Hey," she chokes out, letting tears splat onto the screen of the cell.

"Clarke." No hesitation. Bellamy’s voice is soft and soothing.

"Merry Christmas Eve, Bell. I thought you’d have better things to do than talk to your hot mess of a girlfriend."

"Clarke, it’s okay. Don’t try to change the subject."

Rather than listen to him, Clarke rambles on incoherently. “I mean, I’ve probably lost my shiny new car smell by now. You should go find yourself someone who’s less of a disaster to take care of you, I’m sure there’s plenty of girls willing t-”

"Clarke, stop."

Clarke shuts her eyes and mouth forcefully. Bellamy’s right. She takes a moment to sort through the mess in her head, trying to give shape to the words that choke her.

"It’s been four years, Bell. Four years today. If he could even see be now… He’d be so- so- disappointed." Through the sobs she gets it out, all voice cracks and stutters. There’s no pause before Bellamy answers, with not pity but fire in his voice.

"Don’t you say that Clarke! Your dad was proud of you then, he’d be proud of you now. You may not have become a doctor like you planned but art is what you love. Doing what you love… that’s incredible and you know it. There is nothing about you he wouldn’t adore. S’nothing about you not to." Bellamy adds the last part in an undertone, his voice barely reaching Clarke’s tired ears.

"I miss him, Bell."

"I know."

A silence stretches between them, as if all possible words have already been said.

"I’m coming over," Bellamy says suddenly.

"You don’t have to—"

_Click_.

Twenty minutes later, Bellamy enters Clarke’s apartment to find her sleeping curled up on her couch. The TV’s on in the background —American Idol, Bellamy notices— casting a flashing assortment of colors over Clarke’s grief-stained features. She’s wrapped like a burrito in her favorite quilted blanket and her hair is a complete mess strewn around her face. 

Bellamy takes her in his arms, carrying her carefully to her bedroom. He doesn’t untangle the burrito, but instead chuckles fondly at Clarke’s love of bundling herself up. There’s also a box of cookies on the nightstand, but that’s normal Clarke behavior too for this time of year. In fact, Bellamy would be more surprised if he didn’t see some sort of snack food around. 

Without climbing under the covers, Bellamy wraps his body around his girlfriend’s and closes his eyes. 

Clarke smiles in her sleep.


End file.
